


Your Droid Is A Menace

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Droid Culture, Gen, nonserious flirting, talking out our problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26287066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: "Quite the accusation, Commander. Why don't you tell me what's been going on?""This one!" Poe jabs his finger at R2, "is teasing and pranking Beebs and putting ridiculous ideas in his head and, I'm pretty sure, teaching him some really foul fucking language.""Indeed?""Well," Poe says grudgingly, "differentfoul language. Not the usual."Poe has some issues with BB-8 and R2's new friendship and goes to Leia to fix things.
Relationships: BB-8 & Poe Dameron, BB-8 & R2-D2, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa
Comments: 23
Kudos: 52
Collections: Friendship Flash Fall 2020





	Your Droid Is A Menace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



> V_C, I LOVED all your prompts! I hope this amuses you. <333
> 
> Also, I tried, I really did, to do the tie-in thing where we spell out the droids' names, but it looks so damn goofy. It's R2 and BB-8 here, not Artoo and Beebee-Ate.

Poe shoulders his way past some departing guests as he pushes into Leia's inner office. 

"We need to talk about your droid," he says.

She finishes reading the table of statistics, appends her thumbprint to its final page, and sets aside her tablet. Only then does she glance up. "Good afternoon, Commander. Aren't you as brusque as you are handsome."

"Yeah, yeah, afternoon, General, I -" He stops, looking slightly startled, then pleased, and smooths down the front of his jersey as he squares his shoulders. "Thank you. May I say you look gorgeous? Because you do."

She lifts one brow. "I haven't slept in over a cycle. I think this shirt dates to the Old Republic."

"And yet," he says, smiling. She really does look amazing, this slim, tiny figure focusing so much power and warmth. He perches awkwardly on the corner of her table. "You make it work."

Leia rolls her eyes. "Flatterer."

"It's not flattery if it's true."

"Sure it is." 

"Is it?" He leans in a little, bracing his hand on the wall. His voice drops, goes huskier. "I don't think so."

Laying her palm on his knee, she squeezes lightly, then slips her palm a little higher. "You know, I've been flirted with by the best in the galaxy." He bites his lip and starts to look a little downcast. Leia pats his thigh and continues, "And you're right up near the top, Commander."

At that, he beams, his face breaking into a radiant, delighted grin. Before he can say anything, she straightens up and clears her throat, withdrawing her hand. "Now. What drove you in here half-cocked and furious and flushed like you'd just gotten fucked three ways to next week and taken down the _Supremacy_ single-handed?"

He's still grinning, but his eyes are widening. She can still shock him. That's good to know.

"Your...it's about your—" He shakes his head and swallows. She smiles up at him, serenely composed. "Your droid is a terrible influence. You've got to do something. He's out of control."

"A bold claim," she says. "Potentially slanderous, even. What has 3PO done now?"

He stares at her. "What?"

Leia's smile grows. "I asked --"

"General," Poe says, nearly trembling with the effort to stay on topic and refrain from laughing. "R2. R2 is a menace."

"Mmm, yes. You're hardly the first to observe that."

"Well, hopefully I'll be the last!"

"Really? What's got you so upset?"

Mouth twisting, Poe checks over his shoulder to make sure they have some privacy. "It's delicate. He --"

Burbling cheerfully, R2 rolls into the office. In Binary, he's saying, essentially, «don't trust that meatsack, he's full of Bantha-turds and farting nonsense every chance he gets.»

"Excuse me," Poe says, sliding to his feet and addressing R2. "One, I got here first, so I have the floor. Two --"

«This isn't an occasion for parliamentary procedure, pretty boy.»

"Two," Poe repeats as firmly as he can, "I do *not* fart, nonsense or otherwise." He glances apologetically at Leia. "Sorry. But I really don't."

«You do, though!» BB-8 chirps from the entrance. «Especially when you eat honeyroot and those scarlet legumes you like. It's terrible!»

Groaning, hands covering his face, Poe sinks down onto one of the stools for visitors. "This is what I'm talking about, General."

She makes a soft, noncommittal noise. "Perhaps this is something you three could work through on your own." When they all regard her blankly, she adds, "Without needing to involve anyone. Me. Without my involvement."

"But --" Poe says.

«Padmé's girl. You can fix this,» R2 says. «Just tell him to mind his own business. Demote him again!»

«I didn't do it!» BB-8 says, just to get it out there. «Whatever we're talking about, it definitely wasn't me.»

"We know, buddy," Poe tells him. "You're an innocent caught up in some dark, dark forces."

"Quite the accusation, Commander. Why don't you tell me what's been going on?"

"This one!" Poe jabs his finger at R2's crown-piece, "is teasing and pranking Beebs and putting ridiculous ideas in his head and, I'm pretty sure, teaching him some really foul fucking language."

"Indeed?"

"Well," Poe says grudgingly, " _different_ foul language. Not the usual."

«Fleshpeeps go squish!» BB-8 puts in. «Inefficient little meaty failures.» For emphasis, he plays a recording of someone farting, then rolls a little in delight. R2 rocks back and forth and warbles appreciatively.

"Gross, man," Poe says sadly.

"You can hardly fault a droid for learning from his environment," Leia notes. "That's one of their greatest strengths."

R2 makes a soft **bong** in agreement.

"I'm not faulting Beebs! It's this delinquent!"

«I outrank all of you,» R2 says. «Have some respect.»

"You do not," Poe replies.

«By seniority, I do.» 

"That's not a thing, man! That's just your —" He gives up and looks beseechingly at Leia. "Please help."

"All right," Leia says, settling back into her chair, resting her chin in her palm. "Start from the beginning."

She makes Poe go through his issues one by one, cutting off too much backstory and urging him to stick to the main points. R2 insists on having someone else translate his portion, because Poe cannot be trusted. They have to pause proceedings so 3PO can be fetched.

"This," Leia murmurs, mostly to herself, but not entirely, "would be why Ben was an only child."

Poe flashes her a quick, conspiratorial grin, but she does not respond in kind. 

"You're included in that," she tells him. She attempts to look serious, but she just sounds weary.

He sobers up, scrubbing his hands up and down his face, slumping a little.

"Look, I can forgive all the extra subroutines he got Beebs to install. I can even let go the advice he gave on astronav, even though it boiled down to 'close is good enough, it's their fault if they have pain receptors'. But —" Here Poe shifts closer. Leia leans to meet him. They've left flirtation behind as they slip toward secret-sharing, even confession. "He's got BB-8 too scared to go on the _Falcon_. That's too far."

"Really? Why?" She isn't laughing at him, which is such a relief that Poe's chest hollows for a moment. 

"R2 told him it's haunted. By a droid."

"Oh," Leia says, her gaze dropping. She takes Poe's hand in her own and squeezes, then laces their fingers together. "It is."

Poe doesn't say anything, not for several moments. He knows she wouldn't — probably — bullshit him just now, when he's being this honest. He has to trust that. 

"Ma'am," he finally manages to say. "I don't know what —"

"Han told me," she continues, quickly adding, "which is no guarantee of its veracity, of course. But Chewie confirmed."

"Huh," Poe says. It never occurred to him that R2 was doing anything _but_ lying his treads off. "Really."

BB-8 nudges under Poe's far leg and issues a rapid stream of squeaks. Poe listens, nodding, frowning a little, his focus entirely absorbed.

When BB-8 concludes, Poe cups his palm around the droid's crown and pats. "Thanks, buddy. That's great news."

Leia glances between them and tries not to think of how close Luke and R2 were. How they could hold entire conversations in monosyllables and single flashing lights.

"He says he'll try the _Falcon_ again," Poe tells Leia, "but R2 has to go with him. And I have to be nicer to R2."

She pats his knee, then the side of BB-8's circular body. "That's a very good solution. Nice work."

BB-8 clicks and coos. Sliding off the table, straightening up, Poe adds, "What he said. Thanks."

Leia goes back to work. When R2 finally returns, after getting sidetracked by, first, a rigged dice game and then the need to hide from three beefy haz-mat droids to whom he owes several hundred credits, she glances up.

"Stop hazing the new guy," she tells him as severely as she can. "He's doing his best."

«It's funny,» R2 beeps.

She has never needed to know Binary in order to understand him. "For me," she says. "Do it for me?"

After cycling through a variety of quips, comebacks, and complaints, R2 merely pings a few times and rocks gently.

She smiles. "Thank you. I appreciate it."


End file.
